


Prayers

by iberampage



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-05-02 18:34:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5259287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iberampage/pseuds/iberampage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>some battle of denerim and immediate aftermath angst. slight warning for violence, well you know how battles go...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prayers

**Author's Note:**

> so i actually took this from a prequel/intro to the multichapter fic im currently working on, but i really liked how this part turned out so i decided to edit it so it was a bit more generic ie: not specifically my warden. feel free to let me know of any mistakes or anything you might find :)

It was bloody. Denerim was practically in ruins, the smell of blood and smoke and burning flesh was overpowering, but it still didn’t mask the poisonous stench of the taint.

They fought through more darkspawn than they had in a year, through the city, the Alienage, the Palace, until they finally reached the top of Fort Drakon.

They’d seen Riordan fall, knowing now that it was up to the two of them to end this. If either of them failed, there was no stopping it, the Archdemon, and Ferelden would be lost.

It was waiting for them. They fought for what must have been hours, focusing as much of their strength as they could on the corrupted dragon, while still defending from the reinforcements it managed to call.

…

They’d finally done it, beaten it, ready for the final blow.

Before he could react she was running, snatching up a greatsword and heading for where the beast lay dying. He was powerless to stop her. He could only watch as she slashed along its neck, before plunging the blade deep into the head.

…

The smoke and dust cleared and he saw her lying there.

A panic gripped in his chest, he scrambled to his feet, pain and fatigue forgotten, and ran to where she lay, unmoving.

_No_.

He stumbled to his knees and crawled the rest of the way to her side. Her hair was matted and torn, he pushed a few knotted strands from her face, smeared with blood and dirt.

She wasn’t breathing.

“No!”

He tried to check for a pulse, but his hands were shaking too much. He checked over her body, and found a deep gash across her back, bleeding heavily, her blood pooling on the floor underneath her.

She was dying.

“Wynne!”

She was there in an instant, straight away she coaxed a healing potion down her throat, before moving to work on the wound.

He pushed more hair away, checked the potion was gone, cupped her face in his hands.

_Please_.

He tipped her head back and pinched her nose, took deep breaths and covered her mouth with his own, forcing the air into her lungs.

“Please.” He was begging now, not just to her but to The Maker himself.

He locked his hands together and pushed down on her chest.

If she died he would find Morrigan, she would pay, she’d promised. _She promised_.

“She _promised_.”

He breathed more air into her lungs.

If she died then he would know, there truly was no Maker.

He was vaguely aware of Wynne calling someone- Leliana over to help her.

He was almost frantic now. He pumped her chest again, rhythmic compressions as his vision began to blur.

He could hear crying. He could feel the rest of them losing hope. It could have been Leliana. It could have been him. It could have been anyone.

He breathed for her again.

“No, you can’t-” more compressions, “You have taken too much- from all of us-” he felt a hand on his shoulder, but he didn’t stop. “Not now-” each word punctuated by a push of his hands, “You will _not have her-!_ ”

She gasped, and he sat back sharply, giving her space as she filled her lungs. Wynne did the same, but kept her lying down with a hand on her shoulder. She coughed and her back arched up as she struggled to breathe the toxic air.

When her breathing finally steadied he gathered her up, ignoring Wynne’s protestations, and held her tight. She was trembling but clung to him with all the strength she had, which he could tell wasn’t much now.

“You’re okay.” He soothed, as much for himself as for her.

His tears fell freely now, but he didn’t bother to hide them- he wasn’t the only one. He heard cries of praise, gratitude, relief.

“It’s over.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> so like i said this is slightly edited from a part of my multichapter fic im currently working on. kudos and comments are more than welcome and dont be afraid to ask me anything! :)


End file.
